


To This Chaotic World, I Give My Soul

by fallenstarsandfiredemons



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alchemy, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, F/M, Other, Romance, fullmetal alchemist influences, sort of steampunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenstarsandfiredemons/pseuds/fallenstarsandfiredemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is an expert alchemist searching for the Holy Grail in order to right a mistake she made years ago. When she comes into contact with the Misthaven military's reckless flame alchemist Killian Jones, sparks fly--literally. But when mysterious figures with dark intentions and interest in the grail begin crossing their path, Emma and Killian must learn the true meaning of partnership and alchemy's universal law of equivalent exchange, or risk paying the ultimate price. (Inspired by Fullmetal Alchemist)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Equivalent Exchange

  “ _Transmutare”_

    From the hands placed in the center of the circle-a complex design encompassing the large room-light bands began to creep across the floor, growing longer, faster, steadier, like greedy fingers reaching closer to the edges, trying to escape the confines of the spiral.

    She pushed her hands harder into the dirt floor, sinking her fingers further and staining them with the blood that already covered the floor in a strange pattern-a cane with a line and a star-and gritting her teeth against the forces pushing her back.

    “ _Veni Foras. Factus._ ” She chanted the words under her breath, beginning to vibrate with the motion of the circle, the lights becoming a vortex around her. Her golden hair whipped around her head and shoulders, bouncing off the ribbons of light. The air crackled with energy and the fire of a thousand suns.

    “ _Transmutare. Factus. Veni Foras!”_

    The room was awash in sound and light, fury and hope, darkness and greed. She felt the creeping of the light, the dark shadows beginning to emerge from the vortex. The fear was real then. Ingredients were swallowed by the shadowy shapes, and just when she thought it would be enough...it came for her.

    The shadow had morphed itself together and she could not pull her hands away, sunk deep in the bloody dirt, rooting her to the floor. She had planted herself in this seed of evil and would pay the price.

    Fingers, long and thin, like spiders’ legs, spindly and feeble, yet menacing, reached for her. She felt them closing in a vice around her, cutting off the light.

    “ _Magis_ ” it hissed in its wispy voice. More.

    She would be devoured. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. She had gathered the ingredients, everything should have worked. Why hadn’t it worked? What had she missed? She’d gone over the process a thousand and one times, made no mistakes, so why…?

    It didn’t matter. Mistakes meant nothing in the face of death. She had failed. It was just as well, she’d had nothing left to live for anyway.

    She closed her eyes and waited for death.

    The sound of ripping, the tearing of skin, pain, so much, so much at once.

    Blood splattering everywhere.

    Broken, then dark.

~0~0~0~0~

Emma Swan slipped through the doors of the train just as they were about to close, pulling her suitcase roughly behind her and dusting off her long leather coat in the wake of the puff of air that hit her in the train’s wake. This time it was the train station at Balin, one of the outlying towns in Misthaven. She’d come searching for yet another lead, but didn’t expect it to go anywhere.

    They never did.

And she would know. She’d been following trail after trail for the better part of 10 years, trying and failing to gather some semblance of information about her quarry, but it was becoming hopeless. The only reason she hadn’t given up was because she had nothing better to do.

Bit sad, really.

She strolled through the station, ignoring the curious stares of passersby, couples on holiday--Balin was considered a romantic getaway to those from the central city--and families greeting each other at the check-in stations. She always seemed to make a stir, and she knew she cut a striking figure, tall enough, with a good figure, long golden hair and bright green eyes, she appreciated her appearance. It was one thing she could use to her advantage in a world that had been more unkind than just to her.

She liked to pretend sometimes that she was meeting someone--a lover, perhaps--she’d had a few of those--or a family member. The fantasy would play out until she left the station, where she would remind herself that she had a mission to complete, and anything else would just complicate matters. She was better off alone.

Balin, she realized quite quickly, was a very _friendly_ town. As she emerged from the station a little girl ran up to her, braids swinging in time to her skip, and handed her a pink flower with a flourish. Emma took it in one gloved hand, staring bemusedly at it as the girl skipped away to pass out more flowers.

    She ran her fingertips over the petals, noting the way they folded over each other, cocooning the inside like it held something precious. She tucked it carefully into her coat pocket, running her fingers over it one last time before she set out.

    It was a beautiful day, although the heat was nearly sweltering. The storefronts were teeming with people. It was close to Liberation Day--the flags were flying at the city center--and all the shopkeepers and artisans were turning out new wares. The window displays showed a variety of dresses, hats, coats, scarves, and gloves for the ladies and pressed suits with beautifully patterned neckties and crisp shirts for the gentlemen. She fingered the scarf tied around her own neck, wondering if she should purchase a new one since the current was becoming slightly frayed from use. Using it to wipe up blood and all manner of bodily fluids would do that.

    Further down the lane she came across the mechanics. Automail--automotive armored prostheses--displayed across beautifully embroidered cushions through the windows. Each piece was a work of art. The mechanic had to be a master of his or her craft in order for the automail to work, and the best automail needed less repair and functioned as well as a real limb, so much so that one could hardly tell the difference.

    “Well if it isn’t Birdie,” a deep feminine voice said, drifting across the crowd. Emma smiled and looked over, meeting the storm grey eyes in a pretty face framed by brown hair. The woman was dressed in gingham, an interesting fashion choice in these parts--well, anywhere, really--with her arms crossed, one of which was clearly automail. She was tall and muscular, and in the crowded street she cut her own circle, people moving far around her, as if afraid she would suddenly attack--well, it wasn’t such a ridiculous leap of imagination.

    “Don’t let Ruby hear you call me that,” Emma said, walking over to clasp hands with the woman.

    Dorothy shrugged good-naturedly. “She’ll live. I only call her Wolfie in public. She has a special name for other times,” she said with a wink and a nudge to Emma’s shoulder.

    While most would have shied away from the mention, Emma chuckled. Ruby had been her mechanic for years--the best she’d found and the most enthusiastic about her craft--and she’d known Dorothy for almost as long. She and Ruby had been together ever since Ruby gave Dorothy’s dog, Toto, a prosthetic to replace the real limb he lost during a raid, and the rest, as they say, was history. Some people still didn’t believe in women being together romantically, but Emma saw no problem with it. Love was love, and those lucky enough to find it should cherish it and hold on as tightly as possible, before it slipped away. She’d had too much experience with that herself to believe otherwise. And Ruby and Dorothy were clearly very happy together. In a world as inconsistent and harmful as this one, who could begrudge them that?

    “When did you get to Balin? I thought you and Ruby were staying in Central for a commission.” They moved off the road to a little café, taking a seat in the rickety chairs as Emma gestured to a nearby waiter, ordering drinks.

    Dorothy sighed, cupping her mug in her hands. “Ruby got fed up with the military dogs always coming around to make sure everything was perfect. She said: ‘I can’t work like this, Kansas! The money isn’t worth it.’ and we packed up and came here.”

    “I’m surprised they let you go,” Emma said, taking a sip of her beverage, ambrosial juice--a poor imitation of what they manufactured in Central, but close enough to someone starved for drink after a long trip.

    Dorothy shrugged, leaning back and resting an arm on the back of her chair. She gazed at the people milling around the nearby shops. Somewhere close by, a dog barked. “They’ll find someone else. All they have to do is offer up twenty gold pieces and everybody and their brother will be showing up.”

    Emma picked at a chink in her mug with her thumbnail. “Twenty gold pieces is no joke. I still can’t believe they’re paying that much.”

    “It’s just that time. The outerlands are looking mighty quiet, and you know how they are about all that.”

    Indeed. The Fuhrer was always suspicious of anything going on in the outerlands. Ten years of war could do that.

    “When was the last time you were in Central?” Dorothy asked, tapping her mug against the table.

    Emma shifted in her seat. “A few months ago. You know I try to avoid that place.”

    Dorothy smirked. “It never ceases to amaze me. An alchemist as talented as you, state certified and everything, and you hate Central.”

    Rolling her eyes, Emma drained her mug, setting it on the table surface with a thump. “I have my connection. I don’t always need to be there. I won’t be the military’s dog.”

    “No, they already have a few of those. I heard the flame alchemist just got back from touring the borders. He and the Fuhrer supposedly got into a huge argument about it.”

    “I’m surprised he had the balls to stand up to her.”

    Dorothy glanced around before lowering her voice. “Well, you know he’s her brother, right? Technically, they’re cousins but after his family died in a tragic accident he was adopted by the Fuhrer’s parents. Her mother was a real piece of work, apparently. She wanted them both to be top dogs in the military.”

    “Guess she got her wish.” She’d met the Fuhrer, once--when she given the title of state alchemist-- an experience she didn’t care to repeat anytime soon. The woman had been cold, distant, strict. She’d reminded Emma of a particular grade school teacher from her childhood that she would rather forget. She preferred to keep her dealings with the military restricted to her friend Elsa, who many referred to as the ice alchemist. Elsa was responsible but kind. She understood Emma’s need to keep away from Central and all its drama, occasionally confiding in Emma that she wished she could do the same herself.

    Emma was a bit of a unique case. She technically worked for the military, but she was considered more of a “freelance alchemist” than anything else. Her yearly contribution of alchemical research to the archives in Central kept the Fuhrer off her back and she was allowed to roam free, so long as she didn’t give the military a bad name in her dealings with citizens.

    “So you’ve come to Balin chasing another trail after your mysterious quarry?” Dorothy and Ruby, no one really, knew none of the specifics of her quest, only that she was searching for something, and had been for the better part of a decade.

    Emma leaned back, crossing her ankles and resting them on the low railing that circled the outdoor café. “I’d heard tell in a village not ten miles from here that a man by the name of Frankenstein lives in these parts. I have reason to believe he knows something about what I’m looking for.”

    Dorothy guffawed. “The mad alchemist? He spends most of his time holed up in his mansion. Anytime he does come out he looks like absolute hell, so I’ve heard. The man claims he can bring back the dead, of all things.”

    “Interesting.” It was exactly what Emma had hoped and feared. The man might actually prove useful, even if he was a bit off his rocker.

    The other woman studied her carefully for a long moment. “Just what is it you’re looking for, Emma?”

    Emma sighed, glancing down at her empty mug and wishing she had more juice, preferably spiked, for this particular conversation. “It’s better if I don’t tell you.”

    “Are you afraid you’ll endanger me? Emma, if you’re looking for something that dangerous, perhaps you should-”

    “What, Dorothy? Stop looking? I wish I could.” She pulled off her necktie and wiped at her sweaty face. Did the sun shine hotter in Balin or was she too accustomed to colder climes?

    “I know you would rather not talk about whatever happened to you and I’ve respected your wishes, but Emma, I’m your friend. You can talk to me if you need to.”

    Emma nodded. “I know. But you just need to trust me. It’s better if I do this alone.”

    Dorothy looked unconvinced but after a moment she nodded.

    “Where are you and Ruby staying?” She hadn’t seen any inns, but she figured there would be many, especially in a popular tourist destination like Balin.

    Dorothy smiled and threw a coin on the table as she stood up. “We’re at the Red Cat, but we’ve been looking at apartments. Ruby likes Balin, she says it’s got ‘character.’”

    Emma chuckled, picking up her suitcase and following her down the lane. “That sounds like Ruby. I’m surprised she wants to settle. I thought she lived for the thrill of travel.”

    Dorothy’s eyes rolled. “She’ll probably change her mind. I’m just indulging her, per usual.”

    “You’re good to her.”

    “I try to be.”

    Their boots kicked up dust from the road as they navigated through the throngs of people. They cut a wide path, probably due to Dorothy’s intimidating presence, and managed to reach the inn in a matter of minutes. The sign nailed to the overhang depicted the smiling face of a red cat and there appeared to be a terrace on the second floor with red umbrellas, men and women sitting at metal tables and sipping cocktails.

    “Nice place.” She knew she could afford it. She rarely spent the money she earned as a state alchemist, which was substantial. She probably had enough to quit working and set herself up in a mansion if she chose to.

    Dorothy chuckled as they went inside. “Well you know the military did pay Ruby a partial fee for her completed work. We thought we would splurge a bit.”

    “No harm in that,” she said as they made their way up the stairs. Emma followed Dorothy to a door at the end of a carpeted hall. She knocked, receiving a faint “come in” and opened the door.

    A young woman with long dark hair, slender and tall, was in the process of fixing an automail arm at the desk in the room. She had her hair tied back with a bandanna and her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, with a couple of grease stains on her face.

    “Emma!” She jumped up, forgetting her work, and ran to embrace her. Emma laughed and patted her back. She pulled out her neckerchief and handed it to Ruby.

    “Here, I’ll be buying a new one.”

    Ruby didn’t even ask what it was for. They’d done this so many times it was almost routine. She watched as her friend wiped off the grease stains, depositing the scrap of fabric on a small table that held what appeared to be several other disheveled neckties and handkerchiefs.

    “Perhaps I should give you a charm to keep off grease. I fear for the fabric of Balin.”

    Ruby rolled her eyes, going back to the desk and picking up the arm she’d been tinkering with. It was a bit large, with a muscular build, and must’ve been for a man.

    “Do you need any repairs? How’re my babies holding up?” Ruby didn’t even look up from where she’d inserted a screwdriver in a bolt on the arm, her face inches from her task. Dorothy flopped down on a sofa and Emma joined her, taking off her coat and depositing her suitcase. She rolled up the sleeve of her left arm, revealing the metal that ran from just above where her elbow would be. She took off her leather glove and wiggled the mechanical fingers, feeling a slight lag.

    “If you don’t mind. The fingers are stalling.”

    Ruby rolled over in her chair, handing Dorothy the arm to hold while she took Emma’s in her hands. She ran her fingers over the metal, pressing and prodding. “ We shouldn’t need to reconnect everything. I can take off just the fingers.” That was a relief. Removing and attaching automail was painful. Each wire had to be attached to a nerve in order to ensure correct rhythm and movement.

    “What about the other one?” Without waiting for an answer Ruby bent down and pulled off Emma’s right boot, showing off her automail leg, which was really more of a foot, beginning halfway down her shin. After feeling around for a moment Ruby sat up. “It looks fine. Good to know it’s held up. I guess I could rethink how to make the fingers last longer.”

    Emma smiled. “Thank you, Ruby.”

    She waved her hand and took the other arm from Dorothy. “You’re my best and favorite customer.”

    “It seems like you’ve got good business here,” Emma observed. Many had lost their limbs in the decade long war, causing an even greater need for the mechanical prosthetics that had emerged on the market years earlier.

The sunlight shining through the desk window shone on Ruby’s dark head and caused her eyes to lighten. “Balin’s a nice place. I think we might end up staying.”

    Emma crossed her legs. “Well, I won’t be switching mechanics. I think I could stand to visit Balin every time I need a repair,” she said teasingly.

    Ruby pointed with her screwdriver. “If you ever go to someone else I will hunt you down. I have wolf-senses, remember?”

    Laughing, Emma held up her hands, exchanging looks with Dorothy, who sat back with her arms crossed, observing her partner with a fond smile.

    “Anyway.” Emma stood up, stretching. “I’m going to get a room. I’ll come back later for the repairs.” She slipped on her coat and grabbed her suitcase as Ruby saluted her with the screwdriver before going back to her task and Dorothy followed her to the door.

    “You should rest, Emma. You look tired.”

    “I need to look into Frankenstein.” She stopped in the hall, looking back at Dorothy. “Do you happen to know his address?”

    Dorothy smirked. “It’s impossible to miss. He lives in the big green mansion about three blocks east of here.”

    Emma smiled and clasped her friend’s hand. “Thanks. I’ll see you soon.” She strode down the hall, the light sconces on the walls seeming to flicker with her movements and Dorothy shook her head, closing the door.

~0~0~0~0~

Emma glanced at the book spread open on her bed. She was perched on the patterned quilt, having discarded her coat and shoes in a pile on the floor. The picture etched on the weathered page depicted a beautifully gilded cup set with large jewels. She ran her fingers over the image.

    “Why is it so hard to find a damn cup,” she muttered under her breath, thumping the book closed and causing a slip of paper to fall out. She picked it up and unfolded it. Written in her childish scrawl, it read:

_Alchemy’s 1st Law of Equivalent Exchange:_

_Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return._

_To obtain, something of equal value must be lost._

    She’d believed in those words once, thought she’d understood what they meant, the implications of loss and gain. Those days seemed so far gone. One law was no longer her entire universe. She’d since learned how much more complicated the world was, how nothing could ever be so simple or easy. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, how true those words were.

    She was jolted out of her thoughts by the shrill ringing of the telephone on her nightstand. She picked up the receiver. “Yes?”

    “Is this Emma Swan?” an accented, masculine voice asked.

    “Yes.” She didn’t recognize the caller. It was probably a military dog, checking up on her, as usual.

    “This is Killian Jones, you may have heard of me.” He seemed to think something of himself, judging by his tone. She had heard of him, had discussed him that very day with Dorothy--the flame alchemist.

    “What do you want?” She didn’t feel like making small talk, there were more important things to do.

    “Well, I’m so glad you asked. The Fuhrer had led me to believe that you’ve been traveling around Misthaven, doing some rather peculiar research, if I understand correctly.”

    “That’s correct. Is there a problem?” If they made her come to Central she would turn in her badge. She had no desire to live under the military’s shadow. The pay was good and she enjoyed having the perks and privileges of a state alchemist, but she wouldn’t give up her quest, she couldn’t.

    “No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be accompanying you on your travels for the foreseeable future.”

    Silence. “What.”

    “Mmm, yes, I know. It’s for research. You see, I’ve been in the outerlands for the past few years and I find Central is too changed for my taste. I got into an argument with Fuhrer, well she’s actually my sister, you know, and well, she decided I should accompany you.” He was rambling. Was he nervous? She’d heard the flame alchemist was cocky, that he knew his level of skill was high and had no problems showing it.

    “So in other words, she wants you out of her hair.” It was just like the Fuhrer to pull a stunt like this.

    “That’s about right. Sorry, love.” He did sound a bit apologetic. She supposed it wasn’t his fault, but his sister’s, although she could still blame him for inciting his sister’s wrath.

    “Fine. You’ll have to meet me. I’m in Balin.”

    “Never been there. Well, I suppose I’ll see you in a day or two.” He sounded almost cheery about it. Just what kind of situation had she been sucked into?

    “I suppose so. Safe travels.” Or perhaps the train will break down and stall his arrival, giving her time to skip town...no, she couldn’t do that. He would just follow her. The Fuhrer didn’t like anyone defying  orders. She’d definitely be stripped of her title and potentially thrown in prison if she tried to run.

    She hung up the phone before he could reply, sighing heavily and flopping back on the bed.

    _Can’t get anything without giving something up._ Maybe those words could apply here. Perhaps if she put up with the Fuhrer’s brother, she could gain access to the restricted archives in Central. Only those of the highest rank were allowed in, and she was almost convinced that there was something concerning her quarry within its recesses.

    _Equivalent exchange might save the day after all_ , were her last thoughts as she drifted off to a much needed, deep slumber.

   ~0~0~0~0~

The house really was green: bright, acid green. The shutters were painted a putrid grey and hung askew in certain places. The small courtyard in the front had overgrown shrubbery and the fountain in the center had long run dry. A cherubic statue stood at the top, it’s face lifted toward the heavens--unlike yesterday the sky was grey and overcast--eyes covered with grime built up from what was probably years of neglect. The overall effect was fascinatingly morbid.

    Emma skirted the fountain, glancing at it out of the corner of her eye as she passed. The bow and arrow held by the statue--must have been Cupid--pointed straight at her. She mused that it would probably hit her square in the eye if it suddenly came to life.

    The door was a dark, stained wood with a lionhead knocker--this place really was garish--and she carefully lifted it, tapping once, twice against the door.

    It was at least a full minute--not that she was counting--before someone opened the door. Emma looked up from her study of the doormat--it looked infested with bugs--to meet the somber, droopy eyes of a young man. He was dressed almost like a butler, a most disheveled one. His cravat was untied and hung loose around his neck, the buttons of his vest were not done up properly, and his feet were bare.

    “Can I help you?” He was looking at her like she had come from another planet. Believe it or not, she was used to reactions like this, especially from people like this--sleep-deprived. She wondered if Doctor was working him to death.

    “I was wondering if I might speak with Dr. Frankenstein.” She hadn’t called ahead because she hadn’t wanted to be refused a meeting. If she showed up at the door they were less likely to turn her away.

    “He’s in the middle of an experiment. I can tell him you called. Name, please?” He patted his pockets, searching for a pen and paper.

    “Oh, no need for that.” She clapped her hands together and a tiny burst of light appeared. When she opened her palms, a business card rested there, her name embossed in elegant script.

    The man looked vaguely impressed as he took it from her. “Emma Swan,” he read aloud. “Are you the light alchemist?”

    She scratched her head. “Yes.”

    “I’ve heard of your work. I think Dr. Frankenstein will be pleased to meet you.” He seemed to be perking up. Perhaps this trip was a good idea.

    “Well, I appreciate your help. Please give me a ring when the doctor is ready to meet.” She waved as she walked away, leaving him staring after her in quiet contemplation.

~0~0~0~0~

She spent most of the next day in her room at the inn, poring over books and documents. Ruby had already fixed the fingers on her automail and she and Dorothy had stopped by with lunch before heading out to explore the city. Emma had opted out of joining them.

    “One of these days, Emma, you need to let loose. You can’t work all the time. You’ll go mad.” Ruby had said, wagging a finger at her as Dorothy practically dragged her out of the room, rolling her eyes at Emma over Ruby’s head.

    Sometimes she felt like she was going mad. She’d been doing the same thing for the better part of ten years. Reading book after book, talking to anyone she could find, gathering materials for research...but there were times when it felt like she was going nowhere.

    She liked her life, she did. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but it was hers, and something she’d carved out for herself. She’d managed to pass the state alchemist test on the first try, being labeled a prodigy, and since then she’d done as she pleased. The military, for the most part, left her alone--except for this latest development with the Fuhrer’s brother, but she didn’t anticipate that lasting long. Her lifestyle wasn’t for the faint of heart. She was constantly on the move and following leads to occasionally dangerous and seedy places. She didn’t think the flame alchemist would put up with that for more than a week or two. No, he’d probably run back to Central and beg his sister to give him an office job.

    The phone started ringing and she leant over to pick it up. “Hello?”

    “Ms. Swan?” A cool, crisp, voice asked. “This is Dr. Frankenstein. My assistant told me you came by.”

    She shifted, gripping the receiver tightly. “That’s right. I wanted to speak with you about something. I’d rather do so in person, though, if you don’t mind.”

    “Of course, of course. If you’re available this afternoon, feel free to stop by.”

    She thanked him and hung up, breathing deeply. This was it. She might actually make a semblance of progress today.

    She shucked her lounging clothes and dressed quickly, body practically trembling with excitement. Her fingers shook a bit as she did up the buttons of her shirt. She hoped she wouldn’t ruin Ruby’s handywork.

    She slipped on her coat and grabbed her satchel/briefcase that held all her files and information. With one last glance at the chaotic room--she’d never been much of a housekeeper--she practically ran out the door.

    The day was once again grey and overcast and she hoped it didn’t rain. Her umbrella had gotten lost somewhere on her way to Balin and she hadn’t had a chance to purchase a new one.

    She practically skipped down the road, making it to the green house in record time. The assistant answered the door again, looking a little less somber and a bit more cleaned up. He was actually wearing shoes. He greeted her with a small smile and led her to a parlor at the back of the house.

    The room was sparsely furnished--she guess they didn’t get many visitors--but clean and a tall man with light brown hair and what she might call a historic face, walked up to her, taking her hand.

    “Ms. Swan. It’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard much about you.” His greyish eyes were bright, like a creature that had come out of its cave after a long hibernation.

    “Likewise.” He gestured her over to a sofa. “Gerhardt, fetch us some tea, would you?” The assistant scurried away to do his bidding.

    “Well then, what is it you wanted to discuss?” he asked as he made himself comfortable.

    She pulled out a piece of paper from her satchel and handed it to him. It was a cruder drawing of the cup from her book, with notes scrawled all around the edges.

    “I was wondering if you could tell me anything about this.”

    “I know it’s the Holy Grail. The symbols on the bottom are unmistakable.”

    “Do you know anything about where it might be?” She tried not to appear too eager. The last thing she needed was someone asking her questions about why she wanted to find the grail.

    He shook his head slowly, still gazing at the drawing. He traced a long finger around the edges of the cup. “Sadly, no. The grail is a legend. There have been attempts to discover its location but all have failed. I’m inclined to believe it’s all a myth, nothing more.”

    She deflated a bit at that, though it wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before. “I see.”

    They chatted for another hour or so, drinking the tea--earl grey--that Gerhardt brought in and eating tiny biscuits. Even though he appeared to know nothing about the grail, Emma enjoyed talking to Dr. Frankenstein. He was extremely knowledgeable about his field and as she listened to him speak, she filed away many of his comments, making a mental note to write these things down at a later time.

    She left just before the sun set, thanking him for his time. As she was passing the fountain she glanced once more at the statue, and could swear its eyes followed her movements.

~0~0~0~0~

    In the parlor of the green house Emma had just left, the doctor ran a hand over his face and through his hair, causing it to stick up at all angles.

    “Do you think she’ll be back?” Gerhardt had come back and stood nearby, arms crossed.

    “No. I think she believed me.” They both jumped at the sound of slow clapping coming from the corner of the room. A pair of bright blue eyes peered at them from the darkness cast by the setting sun and a nearby towering bookshelf. The figure emerged, revealing a tall woman with long, wavy red hair. She smiled a cat-like grin at the men.

    “Wonderful job, Victor dear. I was afraid I was going to have to do something naughty.” She sauntered over, draping herself in a plush armchair. Her dress was black and fitted and seemed to sway with her movements.

“I did as you asked, Zelena.”

She regarded him lazily for a long moment. “You did well this time. But don’t forget, if you slip up, what I can do to you.” She snapped her fingers and an eyeball appeared in his lap. He cringed away, slapping it off and watching it roll on the floor.

“That’s what’s left of the last person who displeased me. Ingrain that image in your mind.” She looked around for a moment before giving a long sigh. “Well, this was fun dears, but mummy has things to do. Ta ta!” Before they could blink she disappeared in a cloud of green smoke.

The doctor and his assistant shared a look as Gerhardt carefully picked up the eyeball with a handkerchief. “Poor bloke.”

“Better him than us. Get rid of that thing.”

Gerhardt sighed but did as he was told.

~0~0~0~0~

It was on her way back to the inn that Emma realized someone was following her. She turned into a random cake shop, pretending to look at the elaborate pastries set out on delicate pedestals, all while glancing out of the corner of her eye.

It was a man, she could tell that much. He had his long coat pulled up and a hat pulled over his head. His face was partially hidden by a necktie. If the point was to look inconspicuous he was doing a poor job.

She left the shop after buying a couple of tiny cakes for Ruby and Dorothy, going down random avenues and occasionally walking into shops, leading him around on a wild goose chase. She wanted to see if he would grow tired and give up or if he was more of a threat. Emma lived by a philosophy of ‘always know what you’re dealing with.’

She finally walked into a deserted alley and stopped, waiting to see what he would do. She heard his shuffling steps come to a halt and she turned sharply, raising a hand, a ball of light appearing as she moved quickly, trapping her stalker against a brick wall.

“Why are you following me?” she hissed.

The man held up his hands. She still couldn’t see his face. “Would you mind putting that away? I would rather not have my looks ruined.” His voice was muffled through the cloth that covered his mouth.

She backed up a step but still held the light. “Tell me why you’re following me.”

“I wanted to see what you were like. I’ve heard so many stories about the light alchemist.”

“So you thought stalking me was the way to do that?” Well, even if he’d come up to her, she wasn’t exactly the most upfront person.

“I meant no harm. I think I learned everything I needed to.” What the hell did that mean?

“Who are you?”

He slowly reached up, removing the hat and revealing dark, silky hair. Next the scarf fell away, showing an extremely handsome face with bright blue eyes and a trim beard. The eyes twinkled at her, almost glowing in the light from her hand.

“Killian Jones. I believe you were expecting me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken some liberties with the concept of alchemy. The alchemy in this world is sort of like magic, but, as you all know, magic always comes with a price. Also, my descriptions of automail and how it works might not be exactly on par with those in Fullmetal Alchemist. Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed it. Look forward to the next chapter where the meeting between Emma and Killian continues...


	2. The Meaning of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty much just Emma and Killian. The next chapter will introduce more characters and revisit Ruby and Dorothy.

Killian Jones wasn’t easily surprised. He’d always been good at reading people, their motivations, fears, desires; it’s how he’d survived so long in his line of work. People were infinitely predictable. You give them something to fight for, they fight for it. You bait them, they snap. You entice them, they come willingly. Understanding the way humans ticked had made his life a hell of alot easier in more ways than one.

So when he returned to Central and he and Regina had their little row--actually the building had to be evacuated--and he was assigned to assist the Swan girl in her research, he’d been expecting something like resistance from her. He’d been right. When he called to give her a heads up--it was the gentlemanly thing to do--she’d sounded downright pissed. He couldn’t really blame her. Were he in her place he’d have been raging at someone himself.

He hadn’t been surprised by any of that.

What had surprised him was her. Maybe following her around Balin wasn’t the best idea, but after he’d tracked down the inn she was staying at and asked the staff where to find her, it had been too tempting. He’d thought it might give him a clue to what she was looking for, since no one, not even Regina, seemed to know.

But when she’d emerged from the ugly green house--really, whose idea was _that_ \--he’d been...for lack of a better word, fascinated. She was quite obviously very beautiful. He’d never seen a shade of blonde quite like that and the short glimpse he had of her face promised it was just as lovely as her hair. The vague description he’d been given hadn’t done her justice.

A little distracted, he followed her. He wanted to see what she liked, disliked, her hobbies--if she had any--just anything really. He wanted, no, _needed_ to know just who he was dealing with. And following her showed him...absolutely nothing. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was leading him on a wild goose chase.

Turns out that had been the correct answer all along. She had known. And after leading him into an alley, her claws came out.

He couldn’t say he was extremely surprised that she knew he was trailing her; it would’ve been a bit disappointing if she hadn’t. No, it was the fact that she managed to best him.

Pinned against a hard brick wall, a ball of light crackling with energy inches from his face--his best feature by far--he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in such a position. She’d moved so fast, a blur of motion, and the next thing he knew he was at her mercy.

Bloody hell. He didn’t know whether he should be insulted or turned on. A deadly combination, that, but he’d settle for the latter in this case.

“Who are you?” In the light from her hand, her eyes were lit up green. This close to her face he could see flashes of gold in their depths.

He slowly removed his ‘disguise’ and smiled at her. “Killian Jones. I believe you were expecting me?”

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity--maybe it was the deadly energy still glowing in her hands and still hovering inches from his face that made it feel so infinite, but when she finally lowered her hand and snuffed the light, he couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief.

Crossing her arms, she looked him up and down. He had to fight the urge to make an innuendo. This was not the time to be hitting on her. That was better left for later.

“I’ll need to see some identification.”

He nodded and pulled out his wallet, slipping his military ID out and passing it to her. She took it carefully, glancing between him and the picture before finally nodding and handing it back.

“Did the Fuhrer tell you to trail me like that, or was that just your special brand of stupid?” Bloody hell, this woman didn’t pull punches. Once again, insulted or turned on?

She crossed her arms which automatically led his eyes to a certain part of her anatomy and yes, yes, it was definitely the latter option.

When he finally managed to pull his eyes away from her...assets, he noticed she was looking at him with the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face. Oh, she thought she had him trapped, eh?

Two could play that game. “I wanted to see who I’m to be working with.” He sauntered closer to her, swooping down at the last second to grab the bag she’d dropped in the heat of the moment. He almost stumbled under the weight of it. What the hell did she carry in there? Rocks? Probably for bludgeoning unsuspecting blokes.

Leaning in, he held the satchel out to her. “And I believe you dropped this, milady.” He made sure to flutter his eyelashes just the tiniest bit. In his experience, women loved that.

But not this one it would seem. Glaring, she snatched the bag away from him and started walking off. He stared after her for a moment, dumbfounded, before running to catch up.

“Ooh, you’re a tough lass, aren’t you?”

“Please don’t talk. It’s hard enough to resist punching you in the face.”

“I love a challenge.” He really did. They were few and far between. In his opinion, the best things never came easy.

Even if it only led to a tryst--what would _that_ be like--he sensed that winning over Emma Swan would be worth every bit of the effort.

She stopped suddenly and turned to face him. “Look, I’m not thrilled about working with someone. I do better alone. So just don’t get in my way and we’ll both be happy, alright?”

Hmm. Nope. She could say that as much as she wanted but at the end of the day it wouldn’t change a thing.

“While I appreciate your honesty, love, I think we both know it’s better in the long run if we can get along. The Fuhrer gave me my orders and I don’t disobey. It would be bad form.”

“Really? I was led to believe you and the Fuhrer got into an argument when you came back from touring the border. Actually, wait a second,” she said, tapping her chin, “ _you_ told me that.”

“That wasn’t about orders. I don’t like the way things are going in Central.” It was a mess. Five years touring and he comes back to a completely paranoid Regina. She was convinced every officer had a hidden agenda and was out for her position, with a few exceptions. It seemed there was a mole among the ranks, or so she believed. He didn’t buy it.

So they’d argued. He had said a few things he regretted now, but the last straw was apparently him wanting to cut back on some of the restrictions she’d put in place. Her solution was to boot him out of Central. He’d been angry, at first, then resigned and determined to make the most of it, but now, after meeting his new partner, he was strangely...excited?

Whatever it was, he hadn’t felt this way in years. The border had taken a lot out of him--literally--and he’d come back a little less cocky, a little more solemn, even if he was the only one who noticed the change. It was almost like he hadn’t left, other than Regina’s paranoia and subsequent alterations in the way things were done. No one had come to greet him at the station, no one had clapped him on the back when he visited the main office, no one had baked him cookies or offered to take him out for a drink. Well, that last one was a little far-fetched, but he could dream.

“Either way,” Emma’s voice drew him back to the present. “You managed to piss her off and now you’re my problem.” Did she have to sound so sour about it? He wasn’t _that_ bad.

He held up his hands and shook his head. “Let’s start over.” He held out his hand and as she stared at it, he reached over and took hers, placing it in his and drawing them up and down. “I’m Killian Jones, my specialty is flame alchemy, and I’ll be working with you for the foreseeable future. I’ve heard a lot about you and I look forward to learning from you.”

She seemed speechless, her mouth open in a small ‘O’. “You already know my name.”

He gave her a look. _Humor me, Swan._

She rolled her eyes. “I’m Emma Swan, specializing in light alchemy, and…”

“And?”

“I don’t know. I guess you might be useful.”

He smiled. She could be won over. Baby steps. It was all about timing.

“I sense that’s high praise coming from you, Swan. I’ll take it.”

“What am I supposed to call you? Jones?”

“If you like, or Killian will do.”

“Alright then, Killian.” He quite liked the sound of his name coming from her lips. Hell, he quite liked her lips and he’d only been acquainted with them for five minutes and not even as _acquainted_ as he’d like.

“Where’s your luggage?” She was looking him up and down. Too bad it wasn’t lustily.

“I left it at the inn. Speaking of which, how much longer did you plan on staying in Balin? And what were you doing here in the first place?”

“That’s my business and I was planning to leave tomorrow.”

“Excuse me but as of right now it’s _our_ business. I need to know what we’re doing. You’re working for the military, Swan. Don’t make the mistake of going rogue.”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m _not_ going rogue. It’s just...I haven’t actually told anyone the specifics of what I’m doing. I’d rather wait until we’re somewhere less...conspicuous.”

Oh boy. “Is it that dangerous? Why the secrecy?” If she was playing with fire--well, he supposed she literally was now that he was here--she needed to be careful not to get burned.

She looked as if she was about to stomp her foot. “Look, I’ll tell you, okay? Just wait. It’s...delicate, the whole thing.”

“Delicate,” he tested the word out. “How so?”

“Just shut up and let’s go.”

“Fine, but don’t think you’re getting out of this, Swan. I have my ways.” Normally those ways included snapping his fingers and setting things on fire but he would settle for charm and enticement if it would get her to tell him what she was doing. If it was something illegal...oh heaven forbid, he’d have to tell Regina. But surely not. Emma Swan was a well-known and respected alchemist. She’d made her yearly contribution to the archives in Central and no one had anything bad to say about her. By all accounts she was a perfectly dutiful member of the military.

Really, when he thought about it, the entire situation was a bit strange. Five years ago, hell, a month ago, he’d never have thought he would be in a situation like this: traveling around Misthaven with, quite possibly the most unconventional alchemist he’d ever met, who was quite a spitfire, to boot, and bloody enticing. And to top it all off, he had no idea just what she was doing or if it would land her, and by extension, him, in heaps of trouble. Regina wasn’t exactly known for being understanding about breaking the law, no matter who you were.

 _Please don’t let whatever she’s doing be illegal._ He repeated the mantra to himself over and over as he followed her to the inn, matching her stride step for step.

Well, even if it was all an unsavory business, he was convinced it would, undoubtedly prove to be interesting.

Yes, Emma Swan was definitely a surprise.

~0~0~0~0~

Emma should have known the peace-or whatever the hell this was--wouldn’t last.

It was bad enough that Killian, her _partner_ \--that was still an alien concept-- seemed like he was going to be loads of fun--note the sarcasm, but once again, she was being followed--well, technically _they_ were being followed.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and instead of the oblivious, carefree look she expected to find, he was glancing around like her, eyes narrowed in concentration. She reached over, subtly, and tapped his gloved hand with two fingers. He looked up, meeting her eyes, and seemed to understand what she was trying to convey, for in the next moment they were both running, taking a sharp turn into yet another dark alley. By this time the sun had set, and the less savory characters were out in full force--even cheerful cities like Balin had an underground network.

    Her legs pumped--thank goodness she kept in shape--back and forth, up and down, as she raced through the city, the subtle sounds of almost ringing in her ears. She glanced back to see Killian was right behind her and she couldn’t help but be just the slightest bit impressed by his calm in the situation. But then, she supposed he was a professional, like herself, even if his personality seemed to contradict it at times.

    She must have been distracted by her train of thought because the next thing she knew he had tackled her to the ground, avoiding what appeared to be some sort of projectile aimed right at her head. Before she could even lift herself up Killian was standing and snapping his gloved fingers.

    A burst of flame appeared, shooting towards their adversary and she was caught for a moment by the almost gleeful expression on his face, lit by the glow of the flames. She’d wondered what the famous flame alchemist was like, and seeing him in action, watching the flames lick up the sides of the alley, bouncing off the brick and lighting up the dark, all she could feel was awe.

    In the light of the fire she captured a brief glimpse of their attacker--male, broad-shouldered, medium-height--before he turned and ran off. Coward.

    She picked herself up, dusting off the long coat tangled around her legs and running a hand through her hair. Killian turned to her with a small smile, leaning down to pick up her bag once again and handing it to her.

    “What was that about?” Confrontations weren’t completely unusual but being stalked twice in one day was definitely a new experience for her.

    Shaking his head, he glanced around the deserted alley before taking her elbow and guiding her to the nearest street, where the glow of a streetlamp flickered lightly. “We should get back to the inn. I’m even more intrigued to know what the hell it is you’re looking for now.”

    She pulled away from him. “You think he was after me? You just arrived. I’ve been here for at least three days now. Far more likely he was coming for you.”

    “Perhaps,” his jaw ticked, “or perhaps it’s both of us.”

    Her eyes widened. “Are you trying to tell me you believe someone thinks we’re a threat?”

    He glanced down at her, his eyes more solemn than she’d seen them yet, lit blue by the streetlamp. “I wouldn’t rule out anything, love.”

    She contemplated that for a moment. She knew what she was doing wasn’t exactly sanctioned, but surely…

    “Come on, Swan. Let’s go. The sooner we get to the inn the sooner you can tell me what the hell kind of mess I’ve just been dragged into.”

    Muttering under her breath about cocky alchemists and bossy fuhrers she let him guide her back to the inn, unaware of the eyes that watched them from the nearby shadows.

~0~0~0~0~

After Emma had bathed and dressed in a robe, she re-entered her room, toweling off her hair, to find Killian lounging across her bed, throwing a tiny object into the air and catching it over and over. Whatever it was, it was metal, the light from the tableside lamp caught it each time it reached a pinnacle, flashing like a miniature beacon.

    “What the hell are you doing?”

    He looked up, eyes widening almost comically, and was it her imagination or had his jaw gone slack? He recovered after a moment and grinned at her--she imagined it was his lady-killer smile. He pocketed the object.

    “I’m here because you’re going to tell me just what it is you’re looking for.”

    Rolling her eyes, she went over to her satchel and removed the stack of papers, walking back to the bed and handing them off to Killian. Before she could pull away, he’d grabbed her automail arm.

    “When did this happen?” he asked quietly. His fingers were skimming gently across the metal and she fought the shiver that threatened to rise to the surface.

    Pulling away, she crossed her arms, covering her metal hand. “It was a long time ago.”

    “Mmm. Seems we have more in common than I thought.” Before she could ask what he meant, he’d pulled off his right glove, showing off the perfectly formed metal hand.

    “How…”

    “While I was touring, there was a sacking in one of the villages on the border. Some rebels ran through and set fire to the buildings. We thought everyone had been evacuated, but there was a child, a boy, he was stuck in one of the houses. I punched through a window to get to him. I managed to get him out alive but my hand, after the glass and the flames, it wasn’t working properly, so I told the medics to cut it off.”

    Rendered slightly speechless, Emma could only stare. He smiled up at her. “It’s not an easy world we live in, Swan. I think we both learned that the hard way.”

    She nodded and moved to sit next to him. He seemed to finally notice her leg. Letting out a long whistle, he looked at her with surprise and something like fascinated curiosity. “That’s a story you’ll have to tell me one day, love.”

    “Perhaps.” She gestured to the papers. “Have at it.” She was both frightened and eager to see his reaction to her quest.

    His lips quirked as he gazed at her before finally sighing and shuffling through the papers. She watched him read over a few of them, occasionally reading the lines--though she’d practically memorized most of them--over his shoulder. She observed the furrow of his brows, the jaw tick again, and it only took a minute or two before she perceived him putting the pieces together, everything clicking into place.

    “The Holy Grail,” he said, no intonation in his voice, “You’re searching for the bloody Holy Grail.”

    “That’s right.” She waited for the inevitable storm.

    “Please tell me it’s because you’ve a fondness for myths.” He tore his eyes away from the pages and stared hard at her. She shifted away, rising from the bed and beginning to pace.

    “Emma,” if she didn’t already expect something serious from him, his use of her first name, not Swan or love, tipped her off.

    “I need it, Killian.”

    “For what?” When she remained tight-lipped he threw his hands up in the air, scattering papers across the bed. “Bloody hell, woman. You can’t just tell me you’re looking for something like this and then not tell me why.”

    “Would you believe me if I told you it was for research?”

    He glared. “No. Start talking.”

    “I…”How could she possibly confess her greatest sin, never mind to someone she’d met mere hours ago. He was the Fuhrer’s brother, to boot. She’d definitely go to prison, be stripped of her ranking.

    _Your fate was sealed the minute he was sent here._ She didn’t know why she’d ever expected to continue with him tagging along. It’s not as if he would have let her drag him around without telling him what they were doing--who would?

    “Emma,” He stood up and walked over to her, taking her hands in his. Metal to metal, flesh to flesh. “You can tell me. I promise, no matter what it is, I won’t run to my sister about it.”

    “How can I trust you?”

    He stared at her for a moment before letting go of her hand and pulling something out of his shirt pocket. He held it up--a large silver ring with a ruby inset. “This ring is the most precious thing I own. It belonged to my brother. I swear on it that you can trust me. That I won’t betray your secret to another living soul.”

    Still feeling uneasy, she swallowed thickly and nodded. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.”

    He pocketed the ring and squeezed her hands. “It’s alright.”

    She gazed down at their hands, not quite able to meet his eyes just yet. “About ten years ago, something happened. Someone I loved died. I tried-” she choked a bit at the memory. It had been so long since she’d revisited it. She’d never told anyone, not even the people that had found her. “I tried to bring them back to life.”

    When he didn’t immediately respond, she looked up, and was shocked to see something that looked a lot like compassion in his eyes. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

    “You’re not...angry?”

    A tiny laugh escaped his lips. “Why would I be angry? You were obviously distraught enough to try to perform a human transmutation. That isn’t something anyone undertakes lightly.”

    “No,” she whispered, reaching over to rub her metal hand. “It isn’t.” Human transmutation was forbidden, a taboo. It broke the first law of alchemy; nothing could be traded equally to bring back a life--there was no equivalent exchange. Foolishly, she’d believed herself to be some sort of god, thinking she could use alchemy to change nature, bend it to her will, manipulate fate. She’d paid the price, but had earned no reward, at least not of the kind she’d been expecting.

    “Am I to assume that’s how you got these?” He gestured to her leg and arm.

    Nodding, she pulled away, walking over to the bed and gathering the papers together, sensing his eyes on her.

    “Swan, I meant what I said. I won’t tell anyone. And…” he hesitated, and she felt certain if she looked at his face it would show and an internal battle raging. “I will help you look for the grail.”

    Whipping around, the papers forgotten, she stared at him, green eyes meeting blue.

    “But...don’t you realize what I need it for?” One day--well, less than that--and this man had managed to shock her more than anyone else she’d ever met.

    He nodded slowly, crossing his arms. “I have a pretty good idea. I don’t blame you, Emma. Desperation makes us do crazy things.”

    “I never told anyone. I was so afraid of the way people would look at me, of what they might do.”

    He approached slowly, this time putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She felt his breath in her ear. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it wasn’ easy.”

    Her normal reaction would have been to pull away. She didn’t do intimacy, not this kind, anyway. This was...personal, soul-baring, almost painful, and yet curiously cathartic.

    Sighing deeply, a tiny portion of the weight seeming to lift from somewhere inside her, the place where she carried her deepest sins and regrets, she leaned into him, letting her body rest against his, letting herself be soothed by his human hand smoothing across her head.

Less than a day, and she was already indebted to the man in more ways than one.

    If that wasn’t a sign that her life was about to take a drastic turn, she didn’t know what was.

    What she did know was the meaning of pain, and one thing was certain: Killian Jones had, whether intentionally or not, relieved some of hers. And for that she could allow herself, at least in this moment, to let go...and be thankful to whatever deity reigned over this messy world for sending her a someone to lean on.

~0~0~0~0~

    Somewhere in the city, a man walked out of an alley, looking around before crossing to the green house on the other side of the quiet, deserted street. He slipped carefully through the locked gates, his shadow slipping across the ground as if by some trick of the light.

    And the cupid standing vigil seemed to smile gleefully as it was engulfed in darkness.


	3. Ends and Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken so long to update. I've been lacking direction and writer's block keeps rearing its horrible head. I hope everyone enjoys the chapter. I'm mostly happy with it. Also, check out the photo set shady-swan-jones made for this fic. It's awesome! :)

Elsa didn’t like to label people. She’d been called too many awful names to feel comfortable doing the same to someone else, but in this case there was no helping it.

The Fuhrer was a bitch.

Not only had her majesty decided that no one in Central could be trusted,--the raised security measures within the main office were becoming downright silly--she was now being assigned a partner.

The whole thing made Elsa want to chuck an ice spear through the window of her fourth story office. Her careful control was slipping even further in light of this latest development. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle Central, or the Fuhrer. Almost from the time she’d become a state alchemist, she’d been working almost directly under the woman’s thumb. After years of climbing her way up, she was now a respected member of the military community and a trainer of recruits. They liked her since she was less likely to yell at them if they did something wrong. And she worked alone, developed her own training regime, lessons, everything. No one had had a problem with this, until now.

How was she supposed to change her routine overnight? How was she supposed to adjust to having someone else constantly _there_ , possibly arguing about her methods, questioning her judgement? It was just too much.

She still didn’t know who it was. It could be anyone, man or woman, someone she’d seen around or someone entirely new; the entire thing was a huge unknown. She was sorely tempted to sneak into the assigning office and sneak a peek at the work orders, but that would be wrong. She was too much of a stickler for the rules and, if she was being completely honest with herself, she lacked the nerve.

She had friends, sure. There was Will and Jefferson who came around once in a blue moon to offer her comic relief, Leroy who was a daily staple on the office floor--yelling at people to get to work or stop stealing his donuts, and Archie who gave sage advice and was always available for comforting chats over a steaming cup of tea. Yes, there was a lack of women, and for good reason. The military was a tough gig. If a woman couldn’t pass the basic training, even if she didn’t become state certified to practice alchemy, they would not let her in. Elsa had made it on her work and dedication. She only knew of Emma, the Fuhrer, and a miniscule handful of other women that had survived and managed to make a career of it.

And maybe that’s part of the reason she didn’t want a partner. She knew, without a doubt, it would be a man. And while it wasn’t necessarily that she didn’t like men--she got along with everyone in the office just fine--she had never felt fully comfortable working closely with members of the opposite sex.

She thought she knew what to expect, but despite this there might never have been a time in her life that she felt more taken off guard than when she met said partner, because her new associate was everything and nothing like she anticipated.

Most noticeably, she was a woman.

“Mulan,” she said in a no-nonsense voice, holding out her hand and giving a strong, firm shake.

“Elsa. It’s nice to meet you, Mulan.” And it was. At least she wasn’t a man. If she smiled it might start to resemble a perfect situation.

Mulan’s almond eyes studied her carefully, and Elsa knew she was being sized up. It was a customary practice in their line of work.

“I hear you’re an alchemist.”

Elsa nodded, tucking a loose strand of her pale hair behind her ear. “Yes, I practice. My specialty is-”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m here to help you train recruits in fighting--hand to hand and with arms, not alchemy.” She cocked one thin dark eyebrow at Elsa. “I’m not sure I understand why they have you training them.”

“Excuse me?” Her tone was polite, but underneath the calm facade her control was shaking. This. This is what she’d been afraid of. From a man, it might have been obvious. But from another woman? “I can use a rifle.”

“I never said you couldn’t. I just wonder at an alchemist training combat troops.” She tilted her head, dark eyes studying Elsa. Elsa wondered what she saw: a woman hiding her insecurities behind an icy wall? Not that that’s what she was, per se.

Giving her most charming smile, Elsa gestured to the office. “Let’s address that later, shall we? Have you met everyone on this floor?” She steered Mulan over to the nearest person, Archie--thank goodness it wasn’t Leroy--and, after introducing him, watched him engage her in polite conversation.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa thought about her happy place and counted to five before exhaling. She could do this. She could work with someone, closely, if need be. If she hadn’t weathered all the storms in her past, she would’ve given up right there, but she was a fighter, even if she wasn’t quite conventional.

She would conquer this, just like everything else.

~0~0~0~0~

Ruby peered through the peephole in the wooden door of her hotel room, watching Emma and a very attractive man walk down the hall, deep in conversation.

“I told you spying would get you nowhere. You’re just going to be eaten up by curiosity even more.” Dorothy’s voice drifted to her over the sounds of the radio playing in the corner. They’d opted to have breakfast served in their room since Ruby wanted to listen to the automail broadcast scheduled for that morning.

Ruby huffed, turning away from the door and falling onto the bed with a whoosh, the scarf draped loosely around her neck falling over her eyes like a sleep mask. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t she say anything about meeting a man here? I mean we’re her _friends_.”

Dorothy’s grey eyes appeared over the worn paperback clutched in her automail hand. “It’s not our business. He could be a military acquaintance.”

“Or a lover.”

Dorothy rolled her eyes, dog-earing a page and setting the book aside. “Or that, which makes it even less our business. You know how private Emma is.” She walked over to the bed, crossing her arms and looking down at Ruby.

Ruby sat up and threw her arms around Dorothy’s neck, burying her face in the brown curls that rested there. “I know,” she muttered into her skin, “I just don’t like the idea of my friends not telling me things. It makes me feel like I’m not trying hard enough to be there for them.” The dulcet tones of a jazz singer drifted in the background.

Dorothy rubbed a hand over Ruby’s back. “Give it time. Emma knows she’s important to you. She’ll tell you if and when she’s ready.”

Ruby’s head tilted, sliding back so she could meet Dorothy’s eyes with her own. “I worry about her.”  
Dorothy’s hand came up to cup her chin and her lips pressed to Ruby’s for a sweet moment before pulling away. “I do too.”

Ruby smiled and pulled her down onto the bed as the music continued playing softly in the background, lending a cadence to their dance.

~0~0~0~0~

Emma leaned over to grab a menu from the table next to theirs, flipping slowly through the glossed pages and ignoring the looks Killian was giving her.

“Stop making sex-eyes.”

Chin propped on his hand, he grinned cheekily at her. “Oh is that what you thought I was doing?”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Be more obvious about your intentions, please.”

Leaning forward, his eyes darkened infinitesimally, smirk still firmly in place. “Alright then. This is how it works. You go upstairs and get yourself ready. I wait here for an appropriate amount of time and then follow you up. I think you know the rest.”

Her eyebrow rose. “What if I want to go last?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “I’ve a feeling if we do it that way I’ll be waiting in bed for some poor fool you sent up there in your place.”

She tamped down the tiny jolt of pleasure that went through her at his ability to read right into what she was thinking. That could prove to be as irritating as it was amusing.

“I think, Swan, if we’re going to be working together we might as well enjoy ourselves.” His eyes were somewhere between sparkle and smolder.

Unable to keep the laugh from spilling from her lips, she threw her head back, missing the awed expression that crossed his face. “I see. You want me to sleep with you.” She didn’t mince words.

“Well, that’s the general idea. I may not have known you long-”

“Less than a day.”

“But I like you, and I think you like me too.” He said the last bit with the slightest flutter of his eyelashes.

“Not getting any on the border, were you?” She ignored the look of interest the waiter shot her as he brought their coffees. She cradled hers in both hands, savoring the warmth seeping from the ceramic cup, blowing gently on the steaming liquid as she glanced up to meet his eyes, letting her tongue sweep over her lips.

His jaw had dropped just a bit and she savored the victory internally as she sipped at her hot beverage. Setting it down, she watched him pick up his cup. Waiting until he took a drink, she said: “I want you to kiss me.”

She smiled as he choked it back, thumping a fist against his chest and coughing. “Pardon?”

Reaching over, she took his hand and tilted her head in the direction of another table, where a man sat alone. “Do you recognize him?” She watched Killian’s eyes shift over for the briefest second before coming back to her.

“Aye. Our late night visitor?”

“Yes,” she breathed, leaning forward. Before he could respond, she’d pressed her lips ever so slightly to his, angling her head so that the man couldn’t see her mouth moving against his. She tried to ignore the sensation of Killian’s lips against hers as she spoke softly against his mouth. “We need to split up. Act like you’re going to the room but wait by the staircase where he can’t see you. I’ll go outside. If he follows me, follow him.”

Killian’s lips opened against hers. “Why don’t I go outside and you follow him?”

She pulled away for a moment, giggling, before diving back in. Killian’s face morphed into an expression of shock for a moment before he caught on. “No. I’m going outside. Can I trust you to do this?”

This time she felt the shit-eating grin on his face. The bastard was enjoying this. “As you wish, partner.” He placed special emphasis on the last word, and before she could pull away, his tongue had darted out to clash with her lip, slipping through the seams and colliding with her own. She may or may not have made a small moaning sound as they dueled for dominance with their mouths. The clearing of a throat brought them up for air and they exchanged guilty glances under the stern gaze of the waiter who informed them that if they wanted to continue their--ahem-- _activities,_ could they please do it in their room?

Killian smirked at her. “You heard the man. I’ll be waiting, Swan.” He got up and sauntered over to the large staircase nearby, flashing her a wink before he disappeared behind the banister.

She rolled her eyes and passed the waiter a bill. “If that asshole isn’t gonna pay there’s no way I’m meeting him.” She spoke more loudly than normal, glancing over at the stalker and was pleased to see him leaning in, appearing to take great interest in his newspaper.

Thanking the bemused waiter, she got up and strolled out the door. The sunlight was almost blinding and she was thankful she’d left her coat in the room. She loosened the scarf around her neck, letting it hang loosely over her shoulders. She smiled boldly at passerby, turning at a random corner and entering a flower shop.

As she poked and prodded the colorful blooms, she watched the stalker outside the window. He’d stopped at a street vendor selling rock candy. Turning onto a different aisle that hid her from his direct view, she observed him looking around.

“Are you going to buy something?” The shopkeeper’s tired voice startled her.

“Of course.” Digging out her wallet she scanned the flowers, settling on a small cluster of forget me nots.

She dropped the coins into his large hand. “Is there by chance another exit I can use? I’m trying to avoid someone, an old flame of mine. He can’t seemt to take-”

The man cut her off mid-sentence, holding up a hand and pointing to the back. “There’s a door in the backroom. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks.” She took off to the back, glancing around to see if the man was still standing out front. He was.

The door in the backroom led to a narrow alley, a setting that was becoming quite familiar these past few days. It was completely deserted so she decided to try an idea she’d had while looking at the flowers.

Placing a forget me not between her hands, she clapped them together. When they opened, a tiny scorpion constructed from the blue petals rested in her palm.

She whispered a set of instructions before bending down and setting it free, watching it scuttle off to do her bidding.

Time to find Killian.

It didn’t take her long. He was admittedly bad at concealing himself. Though after his botched attempt at shadowing her, she really shouldn’t have expected any less. Clearly the military had not trained him for espionage. Or maybe she was just good at finding people who didn’t want to be found.

Either way, she couldn’t deny sneaking up on him gave her a bit of a thrill. He’d planted himself at an outdoor cafe similar to the one she’d visited with Dorothy her first day in Balin. He had a menu held up to his face and he kept sneaking glances over it to see if her stalker had moved away from the flower shop. He hadn’t moved yet. Thankfully, Killian had at least picked a vantage point that the man was unlikely to see them.

She folded herself into one of the chairs, waiting for him to notice her. It didn’t take long.

“Bloody hell!”

“You suck at this.” No point in beating around the bush. If he was going to be her partner--ugh, that word again--then he was going to have to get better at sneaking around.

“I beg your pardon?”

She gestured to the menu and then the stalker, barely visible on the other side of the busy street. “You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried. And if I had been an enemy, you’d be dead.”

Rolling his eyes, he slapped the menu on the table. “Yes well, apologies, but reconnaissance was never my area of expertise.”

“Really? You were raised with the Fuhrer and you didn’t even learn how to hide in plain sight?”

“Pardon me, but I was too busy training as an alchemist. I believe _those_ skills were quite effective the other night, if you’ll recall.”

“Oh I recall. I’m just not sure how often setting things on fire is going to help us when we have no idea why we’re being followed around.”

“Well obviously someone is onto you, love. You’re little quest is attracting notice.”

“Once again, how do you know it’s not _you_ they’re after?”

“Because I’ve spent the past five years on the outskirts of Misthaven. If my enemies wanted to do me in, the border would have been the place. Anyway, I’m curious...is this the first time someone has trailed you? I mean, aside from the obvious.”

She wracked her memory for a time when she might have been followed. She’d always felt little uneasy at Central, like someone was watching her, but she’d chalked it up to nerves at being in a place with so much military personnel. Other than that, she’d been so absorbed by her work, but that work had rarely led her anywhere remotely fruitful. In fact, Frankenstein was the biggest lead she’d had in, well, years.

And that was it.

“It’s Frankenstein,” she hissed. Grabbing Killian’s hand, she started dragging him back to the hotel.

He resisted at first, glancing over his shoulder to see if the stalker had noticed them. He was still obliviously standing outside the flower shop. “Swan, what about-”

“Don’t worry about him. I took care of it.”

“Took care-”

“Yes.” She ground to a halt, looking around before leaning in and lowering her voice. They were in an alcove set into the side of one of the tall brick buildings that lined the lane. “Look, I think I know why we’re just now being targeted. I came here on a lead that I thought was another dead end but apparently not.”

Hands on hips, he gave her what she supposed was meant to be a stern look. “And what was the lead?”

She took a deep breath. She knew she shouldn’t feel nervous, he already knew about her deepest shame. But the way this related to that...it felt strange to bring it up when she had kept it to herself all these years.

“I’d heard about an alchemist living here. His name is Victor Frankenstein. Supposedly,” she swallowed deeply, “supposedly he can bring back the dead.” She watched his eyes widen fractionally. “It was the best lead I had heard in awhile, but I visited him and he didn’t seem to know anything about the grail. And the way Dorothy talked, he’s apparently regarded as some sort of mad scientist around here, so I assumed that it was just a rumor.”

“Emma, if he’s claiming to be able to perform human transmutations, then he could be arrested.”

She shook her head. “That’s what I thought too. But he never claimed to use human transmutation. There are records in the archives that detail a trial from a few years ago. Someone had stepped forward and accused him of just that, but he claimed and showed proof that he had only ever used electricity, but had yet to successfully bring someone back to life. In the end, they had to acquit him.”

“So why did you come here, then?”

“Because,” She leant back against the building, crossing her arms tightly across her chest, trying to hold in everything she was feeling. “He’s still an alchemist. I thought since he was trying to bring back the dead and has a fairly advanced knowledge of alchemy, he might know something about the grail.”

“But he didn’t?” He matched her posture.

Shaking her head, she studied the cobbled stones of the road. “He only seemed to know about the legend, about as much as anyone else.” She shoved a hand through her hair. “I should have known better. He does know something about the grail. That’s why everyone's so interested in us all of a sudden.”

“So he lied. But why?”

“That’s the question of the day.” She turned to face him. “We have to go see him.”

He held out his hands. “Wait. Consider why Frankenstein might have lied.”

She gave him a look.

Sighing, he crossed his arms again. “Look, Swan, my guess? Someone threatened him to keep quiet. And that’s probably who’s been shadowing us.”

~0~0~0~0~

He was right. The look in her eyes said she agreed with him. And yet, somehow, he still found himself following her to the hideous green house. He stood near her, ready for anything, as she took hold of the lionhead knocker, banging it roughly against the door. Bloody stubborn woman.

“Easy, Swan,” he murmured, ignoring the look she gave him over her shoulder.

They waited, but no one answered. He glanced around the small courtyard, wincing at the macabre fountain with the creepy cupid standing atop it, smiling wickedly. The place held an air of decay and desertion. He wondered what would lead someone to live like this.

After a few minutes, when he thought Emma was about to break down the door, Killian noticed the big of stationary hidden under one of the cracked flowerpots holding a wilted bloom.

“Emma, look.” He pulled it out, glancing at the spidery script scrawled across the yellowed parchment. “I think this is for you.”

She took it from him, their fingers brushing and sending a little electric thrill through him. He hadn’t forgotten their kiss. He doubted he ever would.

He watched her read the note, the expressions flying across her face in rapid succession: anger, irritation, consternation, then...defeat.

He hated that last one, was quite familiar with it himself.

When she looked up, he saw it in her eyes. And he knew, after hearing her story the night before, that this must’ve been a familiar sight for her every time she chased down a lead, came up empty, and looked in a mirror. That hopelessness. He wanted to drive it away, tell it to leave, stay gone, never come back.

“He’s gone. He left for somewhere safer.” He watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed. “And he’s advised me to do the same.”

~0~0~0~0~

“You’re leaving?” Ruby’s voice seemed to echo off the walls, bouncing around and giving Emma the urge to clutch her head. Ruby’s reluctance to say goodbye, while endearing, was just the icing on the proverbial cake that topped what had been a very long day.

“I have to, Ruby.” She glanced to Killian, who stood nearby. He had been all manners, though not as flirty as she expected, when she introduced him to Ruby and Dorothy. Dorothy she could understand. She had an air of intimidation about her that seemed to ward off all but the bravest souls. But Ruby...well, Ruby was Ruby, bubbly and charming.

Maybe he didn’t go for those types. That’s what she would tell herself. Thinking anything else was dangerous to her peace of mind.

“It’s safest if we go.” She deliberately left out the part about who it was safer for. Certainly not her and Killian. They would be searching for Frankenstein as well as more leads that might potentially lead them to the grail. But she didn’t know if their stalkers would be sticking around, and if they were, hanging around Ruby and Dorothy seemed like a bad idea.

Ruby sighed and looked over at Dorothy, who shook her head. Turning back to Emma, she threw her arms around her, burying her face in Emma’s shoulder. “I’ll miss you. Come see me when you need repairs.”

Emma, though unused to embraces, squeezed her back just as tightly. “I will. I promise.”

 _Don’t make promises you can’t keep_. She silenced the voice in her head. She would try to make it back here, try to live through the unknown that was creeping in closer, driving her away from this place. At some point she wouldn’t be able to cast it aside. And essentially she was running toward it. But it was for that very reason that she was making this promise in the first place.

When had her life become this convoluted?

She clasped hands with Dorothy, bidding her farewell before departing the room with Killian. She felt Killian’s hand against the small of her back and this time she welcomed the contact. She hated goodbyes. She probably always would.

“Alright there, Swan?” Killian’s quiet voice roused her from her thoughts. She glanced over at him to find his blue eyes gentle and concerned.

“I’m fine. I just...never know how to say goodbye. It’s hard to convey everything…”

“Aye. I know what you mean.” There was a note to his voice that she wanted to explore, a sadness hidden in the depths of his eyes.

Without realizing just what she was doing, her hand had reached out to touch his face. She watched the expression of shock flash across his face before settling on a cocky grin. Did he always cover himself like that?

Leaning up on her toes, she watched his eyes slowly flutter closed. A beat later, her lips touched his cheek, caressing the soft skin.

A moment later his eyes opened. “I think you were an inch or two off. How about another try?”

“Mmm. No I think I was on the mark.” She rubbed her neck, watching his eyes follow her hand.

“Did you lose your neckcloth?”

She felt around her neck, noticing the lack of fabric. “I guess I lost it when I was leading that guy around.”

His hand reached out, fingers stroking her neck before falling away. She resisted the shiver that brewed, meeting his eyes and feeling the spark that passed between them.

Swallowing, she turned away. A moment later, his hand found her back again, and if the grip seemed a bit more firm this time, she pretended not to notice.

~0~0~0~0~

The sun beat down on the station at Balin. Killian watched Emma procure their tickets while he stood, arms crossed, by their bags. Somehow, _he_ had more luggage than _her_. Whatever else, Emma Swan was most certainly the most low-maintenance woman he had ever met.

Not to mention the most beautiful. And brave. And stubborn.

He watched her stroll over, long burgundy coat swinging with her gait. _We make quite the pair with our leather_ , he thought, fingering his own coat. He noticed she was wearing the neck cloth he’d given her to replace the one she'd lost. The jade color matched her eyes perfectly, just as he thought it would.

“Are you ready?” She held up the tickets.

“Of course. Onward to adventure and all that.”

Rolling her eyes, but with a hint of a smile lurking around her mouth, she reached down to grab her bag. He gently but firmly pushed her hand aside. “Sorry, love. I might believe in gender equality but I draw the line at having a lady carry her bags when a perfectly willing male offers to do it for her.”

A blonde eyebrow rose. “I guess you’re offering.” With a long sigh, she waved a hand at the bag. “Have at it.” And with--was that a _wink_?--she turned on her heel and headed to the boarding platform.

Killian chuckled, grabbing the bags and hefting them easily over his shoulders before following after her, grinning like a fool for all to see. But he couldn’t find it within himself to care.


	4. Of Things Mad and Wondrous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys as happy as I am that this is updating only a couple of weeks after the last chapter? First of all, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this fic. You guys are the greatest EVER. I'm terrible about commenting on other people's stories so you guys seriously put me to shame and I'm just so so grateful that you're taking the time to look at this story and tell me what you think of it. I don't deserve it but I will continue to accept any and all comments you guys are willing to give. Second, I just want to say that I really like this chapter. I've been looking forward to some of the interactions you'll see since I first conceived this story so writing them and watching them develop was fun and took some unexpected turns along the way. I think it's a teensy (that's a word right?) bit shorter than usual but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ;)

 The train compartment was spacious, but modest. Emma had purchased second class tickets--despite Killian’s protests--and as she settled into her seat by the window and listened to him drone on about how she should’ve let him procure the tickets--like any gentleman would- she noticed a man in military uniform through the slightly foggy glass of the window.

Ignoring Killian, she rubbed her hand against it, smoothing away the layer of condensation in order to better observe the officer. After a quick study, she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know him. The last thing she needed was another military dog trailing her like a puppy. The one sitting across from her pouting like a child was quite enough.

Killian had apparently finished his speech, because a moment later his face was next to hers at the window and she had to fight the urge to draw away. Ever since she had kissed him, ever since he had touched her neck, had bought the scarf that now resided there, she’d been having...feelings.

And feelings were one thing she tried not to have. He could be a friend, maybe a lover, but nothing more. She could be fond of him but she couldn’t let herself love him. Not now. Not until she’d done what she had set out to do. Getting distracted was bad enough. Falling in love would be betraying everything, sacrificing too much.

So she reined in her feelings and pretended they were nonexistent. Glancing at Killian out of the corner of her eye, she saw his face change when he noticed the officer. His mouth twisted into a slight scowl before he schooled his expression, glancing over to meet her gaze.

They stared at each other for a long moment, faces inches apart. His eyes were focused on her mouth and she felt him lean forward slightly, pressing her back against the cushioned seat. Despite her fear of feelings, she was prepared to let him kiss her. A simple dalliance was fine, she just couldn’t get carried away.

She felt her eyelids flutter shut with a will of their own, and a moment later his lips brushed softly against hers, like a paintbrush making its first stroke against the canvas. Soft, tentative, then more firm, harder, and finally, with an almost bruising force. She felt his hands come up to tangle in her hair, and her own followed suit in his dark locks.

Her body twisted and turned with his, melding and locking seemingly of its own accord. The jade scarf fell away and his lips replaced it, gliding over her neck, pressing and peppering kisses, tongue occasionally darting out to smooth over the tiny marks his teeth made in their relentless pursuit. Her head fell back against the seat, hands working at his own necktie before she followed his example, leaving her marks on his skin to match those he had given her. The sound that escaped him was like a prayer she’d heard but was somehow made more beautiful coming from his lips.

It was only when she felt his hand slide under her coat that she somehow, miraculously, found the will to stop. Pulling back, she placed a restraining hand on his arm when he showed no signs of stopping. His head lifted from her neck, eyes slightly glazed, hair wonderfully mussed, and the collar of his shirt askew with his tie hanging loosely from his neck. She wasn’t too embarrassed to admit that she found the military uniforms--long coat, vest and suit tie with a pressed shirt--very attractive and Killian’s outfit, which was his own spin on the standard issue with a black coat instead of blue, was somehow even more intoxicating. She mused that maybe it was just Killian she found intoxicating and if he’d been wearing a potato sack she’d have been just as attracted to him, but realized after a moment of dazed imagination how dangerous such thoughts were.

Meeting his own dazed expression, she began straightening her clothes. “We can’t get carried away right now.”

A mischievous look crossed his face as he leaned forward and her hands, rather than pushing him away as they had a moment ago, fell uselessly to her sides, allowing him to invade her space. “Why not now? There’s nothing quite like getting down to business in a public place.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” She attempted to ignore the pulsing blue of his eyes, the charming quirk of his mouth, the lock of hair that fell over his face that she wanted to push aside so so badly.

Just when she thought he was going to lean forward and capture her lips again, and she powerless to resist the lure he set out for her, he leaned back into his seat. “As you wish, darling.”

Rolling her eyes, she took a deep breath and pushed aside the thin curtain that had fallen back over the window. The officer was gone, the platform deserted. That wasn’t much of a surprise. She could feel the rumble of the train getting ready to move. Looking up, she noticed Killian studying her.

“What is it?” She readjusted her scarf again.

“Did you recognize the man outside?”

Shaking her head, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’ve never seen him. You?”

“Aye. His name’s Will Scarlet. We’ve crossed paths once or twice.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too fond of him.”

He chuckled, leaning back and crossing his legs. “I might have caught him trying to break into the Central public library while he was bloody wasted.”

Emma couldn’t help the burst of laughter that spilled from her lips. “So you’re saying he got drunk and broke into a library?”

Grinning, he leaned forward and tapped a finger playfully against her nose.“I’ll have you know there are some damn good books in that building. I wager old Scarlet was just looking for a fairy tale to entertain himself with.”

“Is he new? I don’t remember seeing him at Central before.”

“Fairly new. He wasn’t there when I left for the border. I think Regina’s assigned him to work with a more experienced officer out in the field.”

“I wonder what he’s doing here.” She hoped it was just a check-in with the local law enforcement. If...no. She couldn’t let herself think they were here for her. Surely she wasn’t some blinking red dot on the Fuhrer’s radar. She was just an alchemist working freelance. That was it. And if the military did happen to find her and question her, that’s exactly what she would tell them.

 _Killian will back me up_ , she thought, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He had begun rifling through one of the books in her satchel, lips mouthing words from the yellowed pages. It was such an adorable image she wished she had a camera or some skill with drawing so that she could capture it.

Looking up, he caught her grin, a matching one sliding into place on his face. “What’s that look, love? Finding me irresistible yet again?”

“Hmm.” Her lips pursed in a smile. “If you want to believe that, go ahead.”

“Won’t spill your secrets, Swan?”

Quirking a brow, she smiled and shook her head. “The irony in that statement. Go back to your reading, Jones. A little extra schooling never hurt anyone.”

“While I agree with you there, I must attest that I am perfectly schooled in more ways than one.” The eyebrow, the lip tap, and the suggestive glint in his eyes told her exactly to what he was referring.

Providence or divinity must have been smiling down on her, because she wasn’t sure she could continue to resist that face. The train began to move just as he spoke, halting any movements they might have made, and she breathed a quick sigh of relief that there was one less battle she would have to fight, especially when she couldn’t be certain of the outcome.

~0~0~0~0~

Killian stumbled as the train shook, still not quite used to the method of travel after five years away. He stopped in front of a small mirror set on the wall between carts to straighten his tie, licking a finger and twirling a lock of hair to fall rakishly over one eye. Not that he was too worried about enticing Emma. She seemed to want him just as much as he wanted her. And just the thought of that was almost enough to make him blush...but not quite. He had been something of a ladykiller once. Even if he had no desire to go back to his old ways, being desired by a beautiful woman was always a good and satisfying feeling.

But her quest...that was concerning. He had meant what he said to her that night in Balin. He would follow and aid her in any way he could, but he hadn’t told her everything. He had a feeling, a sort of sense that this journey would end without the grail. He couldn’t explain it to her, no more than he could explain to Regina that he had somehow known what would happen to his parents and Liam--though that certainly hadn’t lessened the sting of that loss, if anything it had intensified it. It was just something that happened, no warning. Experience, perhaps, had hardened him enough that he was able to predict the outcome of events, but it was almost more than that. He was a marked man. And perhaps that was what drew him to Emma Swan. He could sense a kindred soul in her, inherently knew that she was his twin in spirit, that she had seen things that were best left unsaid. Like his true purpose, which, if his gut proved correct, would be to protect Emma from whatever she ran into. If the past few days were any indication, this quest would be full of dangerous characters.

He caught one last glance at his reflection before turning and abruptly bumping into something. He looked up to see a man about as tall as him with short dark hair and intense brown eyes. Most noticeably, he was wearing a military uniform, although his overall appearance seemed to scream disorder, from the loosened necktie and partially unbuttoned vest to the wild hair that stuck up at several angles, as if he’d just climbed out of bed or run his hand through it in frustration.

“Blimey, if it isn’t Jones.” A voice came from beside the man.

Killian looked over to see Will Scarlet smirking at him, looking smarmy and cocksure while giving off an air of foolishness--a winning combination.

“Scarlet,” he nodded, turning to the other man. “And you are?”

“Jefferson.” He held out his hand, which Killian shook. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You were on the border I believe?”

“Aye. I just returned a few weeks ago.”

Jefferson glanced around, hands pulling on his coat. “So why are you here?”

 _Well he certainly doesn’t mince words,_ Killian thought. _Reminds me of Emma._

“I’m helping another alchemist with field research.”

“Aye, the Swan girl, right?” Will jumped in.

Jefferson turned sharply to look at him before looking back at Killian with a different expression. Whereas before, Killian would have thought of him as intense in a lazy sort of way, like a cat that sits and waits for a bird to fly near, his face had taken on a slightly more manic look.

“You know Emma?”

_I take it you do._

“Yes. I’m traveling with Emma Swan. You know her?”

Jefferson’s eyes darted around, reminding Killian of a madman with a nervous twitch. “Yes. We used to be...close.”

Killian had been around long enough to know what he felt in that moment was intense jealousy, like nothing he had ever known. He wanted to shove Jefferson into the wall and ask him just what he meant by _close_ but the better part, the more gentlemanly side of him, won out.

“Oh?” He wouldn’t ask for clarification. He could read between the lines. And truthfully, he didn’t want to hear it. To even think of Emma with someone else, kissing them, touching them…

It was too much. And that in itself frightened him. When had he become so attached? Was it seeing her lit by the light of her gift in that alley, eyes fierce and blazing like jade fire? Was it the vulnerability she had shown in her hotel room, confessing her deepest sins to him--a perfect stranger? Was it the way she kissed? The way she laughed? The way she was so brave and just...perfect. Yes. She was perfect in a beautifully imperfect way. And he wanted her.

He hoped she wanted him back just as much but that hope seemed premature as long as she was so focused on her mission. The least he could do, though, was keep her from rekindling a romance with an old flame. He would be damned before he let her fall into the hands of someone else when he had only just found her. Not that she was a prize to be won, but his motto had always been _a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets_ , and he would fight for Emma, would go as far as it took.

“Killian?” He looked up to see Emma leaning out of their compartment. He watched her eyes visibly widen as she caught sight of Jefferson, who held up a hand in a strange salute, as if he was doffing a hat that wasn’t there.

“It’s been awhile, Emma.”

“Jefferson.” She crossed her arms over her chest, looking uncomfortable. Killian fought the urge to usher her into the compartment and shoo the men away. While he usually didn’t mind awkward conversations--particularly when he was merely an observer--seeing Emma like this didn’t sit well with him.

They all stood there for a moment in awkward silence, the quiet rumble of the train humming around them.

“Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving,” Will said, rubbing his stomach. “How’s about we get some grub, eh Jeff?”

Jefferson, still looking at Emma, nodded in a distracted way. “Would you care to join us? Apparently the chef’s bisque is exceptional.”

Emma glanced at Killian. “Thank you for the invitation but I think I’m going to try and get some work done.”

“I thought you got motion sickness from reading on trains?” Killian didn’t want to think about how much more Jefferson knew about Emma than he did. But then, he’d only been acquainted with her for a matter of days, even if it felt longer, like a lifetime.

Sighing, she shut the compartment door, coming over to join them. “What the hell. Let’s go.”

Jefferson grinned as Will mumbled “about bloody time.”

Without thinking about what he was doing, Killian reached out, putting a hand at Emma’s waist. She glanced up at him in surprise before a small smile turned her lips. He glanced back to see Jefferson eyeing his hand speculatively. _Let him figure it out himself._

“Shall we?”

~0~0~0~0~

Emma dipped her spoon into the bowl of bisque, watching Will scarf his down like a man starved. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone eat quite that fast.

“So Emma, what are you and...Jones, was it?” At Killian’s nod, Jefferson continued, “what are you and Jones doing out here?”

“Field research.”

“Ah, the same as usual then.” The tone of his voice told her exactly what he thought of this. Jefferson had always been a bit skeptical about what she was doing--what he thought she was doing, anyway. Their relationship--if you could even classify it that way--had been built on a brief acquaintance that was barely a friendship and revolved mainly around lust. She had been in Central for a rare couple of months and Elsa had introduced her to Jefferson. It was a couple of years behind her, and on one of the occasions she’d returned to Central they had gone out for a drink but besides that she hadn’t seen him. They’d parted amicably, and she didn’t truly have a problem seeing him, but with Killian around, something about it felt...wrong. Because even though she was fairly certain Jefferson wasn’t looking to start their “relationship” back up, seeing him reminded her of what that had been like, and made her wonder: _did_ she want that with Killian? Kissing and whatever that led to was fine for awhile, but when she’d been with Jefferson she knew it would be brief. With Killian, there was no guarantee of how long they would be traveling. The risk, therefore, was greater. What the hell had she been thinking? She couldn’t start something with him, no matter how irresistible she he was. Maybe one day. _Maybe_. But today, the grail came first.

“Yeah, the usual. What about you? It’s strange seeing you outside Central.”

Will, who had finished eating his food in record time and was signaling the waiter for another, nodded vigorously. “You probably haven’t heard, but the Fuhrer is conductin’-”

“Shh,” Jefferson hissed, glancing around. There were only a few civilians scattered about enjoying their meals.

Despite Jefferson’s effort, Killian had zeroed in on the mention. “What’s the Fuhrer doing now?”

Jefferson seemed to size him up. “It’s classified.”

“I’m in the military. We both are,” he said, gesturing between himself and Emma. “Not to mention the Fuhrer is my sister.”

“Regardless,” Jefferson said, unfolding his napkin and dabbing delicately at his mouth, “those are our orders. No exceptions.”

When Killian looked ready to argue, Emma placed a calming hand on his arm. “Let it go, Killian. If you really want to know you can ask your sister about it.”

He nodded, still scowling at Jefferson. “Fine.”

The rest of the meal was silent.

~0~0~0~0~

Emma jolted awake, a loud screeching echoed off the walls of their compartment, coming from outside or inside, she couldn’t tell. But it was dark, the middle of the night, and the windows were fogged up. All in all, a recipe for a cheap horror novel.

She glanced over to see--barely by the light of the moon--Killian sitting up, hair mussed, covering his ears with his hands. “What the bloody hell is that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Getting up, she stumbled on a book Killian had been reading when he fell asleep before she slid open the door to their compartment. Not a light was on outside, but a few others had poked their heads out, some covering their ears like Killian.

She felt Killian poke his head over her shoulder. “Is it the train, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Whatever it was, it seemed to be stopping. The screeching, which had started out at a crescendo, was now pitched to a lower volume, almost the strength of a hum.

And it was that thought, and the absence of the usual hum that accompanied their travel that made Emma realize. “The train stopped.” She turned to look at Killian, a difficult feat in the near darkness. “Why are we stopping? We’re supposed to keep moving through the night.”

“Is there a lantern here? For emergencies?” Before she could respond, he’d snapped his fingers, a small fire flickering in his palm, and began searching the compartment. “Found it.” He touched a finger to the wick of the candle set into the glass chamber.

Turning to Emma, he held it up, eyes glinting blue orange by the lantern light. “Shall we see if we can assist the crew?”

“That would be the noble thing to do.”

He smirked, passing her in the narrow doorway, every plane of his body seeming to brush against hers. The sharp little gasp that escaped her lips didn’t go unnoticed if his smoldering eyes were any indication. _This is exactly why I need to take a step back._

She followed him down the narrow corridor, passing anxious faces, answering a few questions with “we’re looking into it” and “everything is fine.” But they didn’t really know. It could be nothing, just a mechanical issue, or it could be something entirely different. Emma was inclined to believe the former, but after the past few days her worldview was taking off in a completely different direction from everything she had ever known and believed. And from that perspective, if someone told her the Fuhrer herself had stopped the train, she might have taken their word for it.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Will Scarlet bursting out of a compartment and colliding into her.

“Apologies, miss.” Looking up, she realized the moment he recognized her. “Oi, it’s Swan. Jeff, it’s Swan. Lookin’ into the train stoppin’ are ya?”

“That about sums it up.” She glanced behind him to see Jefferson looking only half-awake, blinking bleary eyes.

“Emma?” Killian, noticing she had stopped, came back to stand next to her, surveying her companions. “We’re going to the head car to see what the holdup is.”

Jefferson rubbed a hand over his face, nodding. “We’ll come with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Killian began, but Jefferson and Will were already walking down the hall. He glanced at Emma. “Well, the more the merrier I suppose.”

~0~0~0~0~

The closer they got to the front of the train, the more Killian’s sense of unease grew. Waking up to the loud screech had unsettled him, and trekking through the dark train with only the light of the moon and his lantern to guide them, he felt...off. Having Will and Jefferson along was only a minor irritation in the grand scheme. He had a feeling that they would need as many as possible for whatever was waiting for them. As it stood, he felt as if they were traversing the mouth of a long beast, no twists or turns, just that endless trek, the darkness seeming to grow with each passing moment, the still sort of quiet that spoke of something sleeping in the dark, the end whispering of their fate, to be swallowed into the dark, and become one with it. He wanted, in the deepest part of his soul where he reserved those baser, childish fears, to grab Emma and go, say to hell with it, nobility could take a back seat for once.

But he didn’t. He kept going, sticking close to Emma.

He saw the window set into the door of the head compartment before they reached it. It was completely fogged over, so much so that by the light of his lantern it looked almost ghostly.

Jefferson placed a hand on the door, glancing back to look at them gathered around. “Will, get your gun out.” He took out his own pistol, checking to make sure it was loaded before addressing Emma and Killian. “I trust you two can use alchemy if it’s needed?”

They both nodded, glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Killian reached over and took Emma’s hand, giving it a brief squeeze before letting go. He couldn’t explain it to her now, but whatever was behind that door, whatever waited for them in the dark, it was something they needed to face together. He looked over at her again, seeing the spark in her eyes, wishing he could protect from whatever hurdles they encountered, but wanting to nurture that spark and let it flare to life, blazing brightly, like the flames he called his friends.

Will’s expression was the most solemn Killian had seen him wear. “Do you think…?”

Jefferson shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s better to be prepared. I don’t like how quiet it is.” _He’s even more perceptive than I first believed,_ Killian thought.

Placing his hand on the slider for the door, Killian heard Jefferson take a deep breath before sliding it open.

And inside,a burst of light.

_Chaos._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you surprised by anything in this chapter? Tell me what you think in the comments! And I'd like to add that Elsa and Mulan will be back, in case you were wondering, but it may or may not be in the next chapter since there's still whatever is behind the door to take care of...


	5. Interlude at Central

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only been a week, woo! Yeah I'm horrible for the cliffhanger and this chapter comes at an aggravating time, I know. Regardless, hope everyone enjoys it and tell me what you think in the comments!

While Emma and Killian faced down whatever waited beyond the door on that train, things at Central were undergoing similarly tense and strange circumstances.

The Fuhrer paced the confines of her office, occasionally glancing at the door or the line of windows on the opposite side, waiting for a sign of things to come. Elsa watched her from one of the plush black armchairs that sat before the large desk. She had been pulled away from training, which Mulan had happily taken control of, to be brought into the office. For what, she didn’t know. The Fuhrer had remained tight-lipped on that aspect of the visit, only telling Elsa to sit and make herself comfortable. 

She glanced out the window, noting the dying light of the sun. Regular office hours had ended half an hour ago, which meant whatever the Fuhrer had called her in for was officially off the record. They’d observed this protocol before, for emergencies and special situations.

Regina finally stopped pacing, stopping to lean against her desk. She’d shed her the outer coat of her uniform--not an unnatural occurrence in the office--but the rolled up sleeves and loosened necktie were definitely unusual. Elsa was used to seeing the Fuhrer completely put together, composed, not a hair out of place. But tonight, she seemed...harried. And while that in itself was not exactly a strange phenomenon for Regina, she was letting in show, which meant whatever had her so bothered was worth concern.

Elsa glanced at the slim silver watch on her wrist. She hoped whoever they were waiting for would be there soon. She hadn’t eaten lunch--nerves were destroying her appetite--but she had planned to eat something for dinner. 

“He’ll be here soon.” The Fuhrer’s voice broke through her thoughts. Elsa glanced up at her, meeting the dark-eyed stare. 

“May I ask who we’re waiting for?” Surely that was within her rights.

Regina huffed and crossed her arms. “I need you here as collateral.” Elsa’s confusion must have shown, because Regina sighed dramatically and grabbed a pad of paper and pen from her desk. Elsa watched her write something down before tearing it--quietly, she noticed--and handing it to Elsa.

_ We’re waiting for Gold. I need you to sit there and make note of anything he says or does.  _

Elsa nodded and held out a hand. Regina gave her the pen. A moment later, Elsa handed the paper back.

 Gold. Major General Gold, assumedly. No one actually knew his first name. The military didn’t require it--a fault in the system Regina had been trying to fix but it required so much paperwork a lot of it had fallen on her subordinates, namely Elsa. The fact that Gold had never thought to share his name was a mark of suspicion with the Fuhrer, but then, she was suspicious of everyone these days. Elsa didn’t care that she didn’t know his full name. Her father had taught her as a child that names have power, and if you didn’t want someone to control you, you kept your name close. Elsa figured Gold was just old-fashioned that way.

She read the next note from Regina:

_ Mental notes. This is off the record, remember? I don’t need him wondering about you being here any more than he already will. We’re writing this because the office is bugged. And no, I don’t know where it is. _

Elsa just nodded. Regina took the paper from her, throwing it on the already prepared transmutation circle etched into the floor of her office--all the officers with private offices had them; it was another of Regina’s ideas. She clapped her hands, a burst of flame appearing from her palms to strike down on the paper, turning it to ash.

A moment later, she had swept the small pile into the rubbish bin. Elsa got up and walked over to the window, looking out at the city. They were on the fifth floor, one up from Elsa’s office. She could see the people below, most leaving the building. She recognized Archie by his trademark umbrella, hailing a cab. Leroy came out a moment later, yelling back at someone hidden from her view. She wondered if Mulan had left yet since the class they were  _ supposed  _ to be teaching together should have ended already. 

Perhaps she should’ve retracted the unkind thoughts about her boss from before. Working with Mulan was...manageable, so far. Elsa couldn’t deny that the woman was efficient though. And she didn’t mind that Mulan wasn’t all that personable. Elsa liked peace and quiet where she could get them, and in a place like Central, they weren’t exactly readily available commodities.

Turning away from the window, she returned to her seat, glancing around the office. If it really was bugged,--because she couldn’t be sure if Regina’s paranoia was speaking for her again--where would it be?

Regina seemed to be following her train of thought because when Elsa pointed to the vent in the ceiling Regina shook her head and held up her hands. Elsa picked up the notepad and pen, scribbling a note and handing it to Regina.

She watched her read the note, expecting her to roll her eyes. She wasn’t disappointed. Regina held out her hand for the pen. 

_ I know it’s bugged. Things that I said in confidence in this room have gotten out.  _

Elsa scratched it out and wrote back.

_ So this meeting…? _

Regina glanced over her shoulder and nodded.

_ I suspect it’s Gold. _

Elsa said nothing more as Regina once again disposed of the paper. It probably should have surprised her that Regina thought Gold was the mole, but considering their history...From what Elsa had heard, when she first came to work for the military and Regina’s mother, Cora, was still alive, she and Gold had been close. But there was gossip that while Cora pretended to be helping Gold gain a higher rank using her husband’s connections, she had instead aided her daughter in becoming the new Fuhrer after the previous one passed away from old age. That was another sketchy subject.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. She exchanged a look with the Fuhrer, who went to sit behind her desk.

“Come in.”

Elsa made sure her usual calm facade was in place as the door opened, but instead of seeing Gold, a much younger man walked in. His dark hair and beard neatly trimmed, blue eyes glinting with what Elsa knew from experience was a spark of ambition.

Regina had risen from behind her desk. “What the hell? Where’s Gold?”

The man saluted. “Apologies, m’am. The Major General had a pressing appointment and won’t be able to make it. He sent me in his stead.”

One dark brow rose. Elsa felt sorry for this man. No one liked to deliver the Fuhrer news that was likely to piss her off. “And you are?”

“Arthur Pendragon, the major’s personal assistant.”

Elsa almost snorted. Almost. No one in the military had personal assistants. Some people liked to pretend Elsa was one, but she ignored them. The fact that Major General Gold was sporting a man calling himself that was not only laughable it was downright cheeky. Because if the Fuhrer didn’t have an assistant, no one did. And sending him in Gold’s place to basically blow off the Fuhrer, his  _ boss _ , well...needless to say Elsa desperately wished she could leave before the proverbial shit hit the fan.

“I see.” The calm tone of Regina’s voice didn’t fool Elsa. There was an explosion waiting just beneath the surface. “Did he happen to say what’s more important than his meeting with me?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

Regina didn’t say anything, just sat back down, drumming her fingers on the desk and staring off into space for a moment. Before anyone could speak she’d fixed Arthur with a pleasant smile. “Well, I suppose the major is a busy man. Send him my best wishes and have him reschedule with me.”

Arthur, looking a little lost, saluted Regina, nodded to Elsa, and left, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Elsa waited. 

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three.

Four.

Fi--

“THAT SON OF A BITCH!!”

A paperweight went sailing across the room, colliding with the opposite wall and creating a decent-sized hole. 

Elsa, used to such occurrences, calmly took the pad of paper and wrote something, handing it to the Fuhrer, who took it with a huff.

She glanced up a few seconds later, glaring, but took the pen and wrote back, sliding it over to Elsa when she finished.

_ See if you can find out who Gold is meeting. I’ll get someone in here to check for bugs tonight.  _

Elsa nodded, holding in the sigh that begged to be released. She guessed her work for the day wasn’t done.

~0~0~0~0~

Later, Elsa clicked off the light in her office. She had checked all the phone calls going in and out of the building the past three days, and nothing unusual had shown up, unless Leroy’s hour-long conversation with Astrid from the bakery down the street could be considered highly suspicious activity. 

“You’re here late.” She might have jumped if she hadn’t been in this line of work as long as she had. Peering into the dark office area, she made out a silhouette by the main desk. A moment later, one of the overhead lights came on, revealing Mulan.

Elsa readjusted her bag over her shoulder, too tired and hungry for more tense conversations. “I got called in on some business for the Fuhrer.”

Mulan’s arms were crossed, her stance rigid. “And in your office?”

“More work,” Elsa said, somewhat defensively. It almost seemed like Mulan suspected her of something.

The other woman nodded, eyes taking in Elsa’s no-doubt haggard appearance. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“More than one, I think.”  _ Where did that come from? I never drink. _

Mulan’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and it took Elsa a moment to realize she was smiling.  _ That  _ was certainly an expression she had never anticipated seeing on the always stern woman’s face.

“I’m still new here, but I heard there’s a nice bar around the corner. Good food too, apparently.”

Elsa nodded. “I’ve been there once or twice.”

“Care to show me around?” 

Elsa hesitated. Of all the possible ways for this day to end, the last she had expected was going to get a drink with her new co-worker. But then, it really wasn’t such a strange thing. And Archie was always encouraging her to look past her work and live a little. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to do just that.

That was it, she decided. If Gold really was involved in some sort of subterfuge, it wasn’t going to change overnight. She could afford to take a night off. The world wouldn’t burn to ashes or fall apart that quickly.

This was her putting herself first for the first time in a long time.“I’d love to.”

She only hoped there would be no regrets come morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, next chapter will reveal what's behind the door. I just like to draw out the suspense. You're welcome. ;)


End file.
